


we could have it all (if only we would reach for it)

by Emgirl16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU of an AU, And get the boys together with some angels, And he helped save the world, But Dean doesn't live in that world, Cause we are sad and ignore our other feelings, Dean recovers some memories, F/M, He just remembers it, I edited for those who don't care for OCs, I'm Sorry, Implied Crowley/Bobby Singer, Implied Gabriel/Sam Winchester, In another life Adam was raised with them, M/M, Memory Magic, Mutually Unrequited, Recovered Memories, Unhappy Ending, cause why not, focuses on Destiel, sort of endverse Dean, that's a thing, why can't we just be happy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emgirl16/pseuds/Emgirl16
Summary: When Sam and Dean visit Adam's house to say one last goodbye, Dean is hit with a lifetime of memories from another timeline. One where Adam was raised with the boys and saved the world. He also pushed them in the direction of the two badass angels that fought with them.But that path has already been stolen from Dean's grasp.Now he's left with the realization of what Cas means to him, what they could become, and why it won't happen.





	we could have it all (if only we would reach for it)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [what could have been (if life had been kinder)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434181) by [Emgirl16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emgirl16/pseuds/Emgirl16). 



> I really loved the Dean/Cas relationship in my other fic, but realized most people don't really care for OC's. So I edited to make a version without the OC parts so more could enjoy the real story without all the extra stuff. A lot of this has been copied over, so you'll recognize it if you read the other.

_In one world Kate dies when Adam is young, forcing John to raise him alongside Sam and Dean._

_This changes many things._

_The world is brought to the edge but is saved from going over. It’s a combination of things, little stuff that adds up. Certain people living, certain people dying, it all changes the game._

_This is the world Dean visits when Zachariah sends him on his first little trip. What that assbutt didn’t plan on, was that this opened up a connection._

_One that would soon be revealed._

 

He doesn’t remember him at first and the night in that almost future where he found himself outside had driven him crazy. It needled at him, the need to remember, like a throbbing in his skull.

Sam says nothing when he starts to keep Aspirin on him and he starts finding alcohol pamphlets in his motel room.

The bastard had recruited Cas, it seems.

 

When they head to Adam’s house, he feels like he’s in a dream. Adam was 19 years old and in medical school. Dean would never see this kid graduated, would never get to laugh at and then answer his awkward questions about girls or boys. This kid should have been family but was now just a stranger.

When Adam turns out to have been dead for weeks, it hits Dean hard. The gap between them can never be filled. Adam would remain a face in a picture, a name on a page.

Then his eye catches the pictures on the wall.

Maybe he shouldn’t torture himself like this, but he goes to look at them anyway. He should get some idea of how Adam’s life went, even if it was an incomplete puzzle.

It's in a small picture, framed and placed lovingly in the hall. It’s the kind of picture he knows all the occupants of the house must have glanced at every time they walked past.

It shows a tired, but kind woman. Her arms are around Adam, with a wide grin and the kind woman’s eyes.

The world stills.

Memories that aren’t his pour into his head.

It’s like an acid trip and rollercoaster rolled into one. He sees and lives a life he knows is not his. They bang around in his head so much he feels like he’s going to vomit.

Where is his baby brother?

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Sam asks him, worry filling his face.

_Where’s Adam?_

“Dean, Adam is dead.”

Dean looks at Sam confused because  _Adam wasn’t dead._

Then the black spots filled his vision and he hits the floor.

“ _Dean_?!”

 

Cas takes them immediately to Bobby’s house, the first safe place they think of.

“Put him on the couch!” Bobby bellows. He doesn't know what's going on, but he sees Dean is in pain.

Sam can say nothing, his face pale.

Cas puts his hand on his head, eyes closed.

“I see.” He says.

“What’s wrong with him?!” Sam pleads.

“Someone implanted memories of another timeline into his head. His mind is scrambling to accept them.” Castiel tells them.

“I can fix it.” He sounds relieved.

Dean lies on the couch, remembering a life he has never lived.

_Castiel_. His mind whispers.

 

Dean wakes at Bobby, confusing thoughts no longer circling his head. The pain that had been plaguing him for weeks was now gone, leaving him slightly dizzy.

“What the Hell happened to me?” He groans.

“It seems you awakened memories of another timeline.” Cas informs him, with a cock of his head.

“ _JESUS!_ ” Dean jumps. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

Castiel had made a habit of popping up unexpectedly. Combine that with his lacking sense of boundaries and personal space had made for some extremely awkward moments.

Cas looks confused. “That is unlikely, considering your age and how I healed you-”

“That’s not the point Cas.” Dean sighs.

 

They meet downstairs in Bobby’s dining room, everyone wearing the same expressions of grim expectancy they’ve been wearing for months.

“Well?” Bobby looked at Cas. “Did you fix the mess in his head?”

“I put a seal on the new memories, yes.” Castiel reports. “Dean may access them if he wishes, but I highly recommend against it.” His eyes stare into Dean as if trying to peer into his head, which he probably was. “It seems to cause him high emotional stress.”

“What did you see?” Sam asked, unable to stop himself. “What happened?”

“I saw our end.” Dean answers. “I saw our salvation.” He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “I saw that we’ve fucked up beyond repair.”

“What are you talking about?” Bobby scowls.

“I saw  _him_.” Dean replies. “ _Adam_.”

Sam drops his cup, it shatters on the floor.

The sound echoes across a silent room.

 

He can still see him. The way his eyes lit up when he got down a move. His determined face as they faced down impossible odds. He can hear him laughing with Cas and soothing words as he coaxed Chuck out of his small cabin.

He knew him.

Yet none of this had ever happened. He never listened to the kid shyly say he wanted to be a doctor. He never listened to music with him in Baby. He never taught him the words his mother used to sing to him to help him through a nightmare.

He tells them this, through clenched teeth and shaking hands.

But he keeps some things to himself. Things that are better left buried, because he knows he can never have them.

He watches Cas in the corners of his eyes in a way he never watched him before. His eyes had been opened to an impossible truth and now it will not leave his mind.

 

“What do you mean, the angels want to use him?” Dean yells, frustrated beyond belief.

They are knee deep in trying to avert the apocalypse. Lucifer is prancing around Earth and the angels are putting more pressure on them than ever to get their way.

But that’s not why Dean feels like hitting the bottle.

No, Dean has been pushed past his edge by the fact that apparently,  _there’s not a damn thing he can do to save Adam._

“He is in heaven.” Cas tells him, frowning. “They have been keeping him as a backup plan.”

“They can’t do that, right?” Sam asks. Everyone turns and looks at him. “I mean, they need Dean to say yes, don’t they?”

“In Dean’s case, they just need the bloodline.” Cas reveals with a solemn look. “It won’t be as effective, but it would work.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Cas’ voice is filled with sorrow. He hates letting Dean down.

Dean closes his eyes.

_I keep letting you down._

 

He finds himself sitting on Bobby’s roof, sipping a beer.

It is a clear night, no clouds to cover the moon and stars. He has a small ice chest next to him, refills ready at his leisure.

“Dean.” A voice says beside him.

He jumps. “ _Jesus_ , Cas!” He spills some his beer on his jeans, which makes him frown. These were his last clean pair.

“I am told it is common to ask about someone’s emotional state in a trying time.” Cas peers at him, head tilted.

“I’m doing fine.” Dean answers tightly.

“That is a lie.” Cas informs him.

“What, did your mystical angel bullshit tell you that?” Dean gripes.

“No, it is because I am your friend.” Cas tells him.

Shame hits Dean then, he knows Cas is having trouble with his grace. Trouble because he can’t go back home.

Because of Dean.

“Sit down, Cas.” Dean grumbles, after a moment of silence.

Cas follows his directions, awkwardly settling on the roof. He has to readjust his trench coat, leaving his tie crooked.

Dean reaches and fixes it before he can stop himself. Cas puts up a hand and touches Dean. He stills and his eyes meet Cas. His breath catches.

_Why is Cas the only one who can make the world fall away?_

Dean lets his hand drop and turns away.

They sit in silence as Dean finishes his beer.

He can’t make the memory of feeling Cas’ skin against his disappear.

 

Adam is resurrected and everything in Dean lights up with joy.

But this Adam does know Dean’s face. He even flinches when Dean reaches for him. Dean is painfully reminded that he is the only one that remembers.

Adam is soon gone, lost to the angel’s schemes.

His face is imprinted into Dean’s mind.

_Why can’t I keep you safe?_

 

Adam’s mind is swallowed whole by the force of Michael’s consciousness in seconds.

He is scared and dizzy.

He finds himself in his house, his  _home_  before everything went to shit.

It is only a pale imitation of the real thing, this house, and the fake people in it. They are only fragments, built from his memories.

He cries for three days in this prison of his.

He cries for his mother, for his world, and even himself.

_What has he done?_

 

He sees Gabriel’s still body in his nightmares now.

The empty burned out eye sockets that once held eyes like honey, always full of mischief. The ugly, black stains on the floor beside him, the only remains of what was surely a glorious set of wings. He hangs his head.

_It was all wrong._

 

He swears this will be the point where he changes things.

He will use these god-awful memories and the knowledge that comes with them, for what good it does.

 

He finds Cas sitting in Baby.

He is quiet and staring into an impossible distance.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says quietly.

“Hello, Dean.” He responds, his voice emotionless.

Dean crawls into the back with him. They sit almost close enough to touch.

“The world feels much… _emptier_  without Gabriel in it.” Cas confesses quietly.

Dean reaches and holds his hand tightly without a word.

“This feeling in my vessel, it is most unpleasant.” Cas continues. “Like something is weighing my chest down.”

“That’s called sadness, Cas.” Dean answers gruffly.

“I do not like it, Dean.” Cas leans into his body, like a child seeking comfort.

“Nobody does Cas.” Dean sighs. “It’s part of being human.”

His hold on Cas tightens and the hole in his chest gets bigger.

 

Sam holds a picture of Adam in his hand.

He isn’t smiling, just squinting into the distance. He has a cigarette in her hand and a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his leather jacket. On the surface, he looks like one of those troubled kids you see in posters on a guidance counselor’s wall.

But when you consider his eyes, you see the warmness he holds for whoever is taking the picture. They are soft, with a hint of mischief. His mouth holds a fond twist to it, an almost smile.

He bets Adam was once funny and cynical and even a bit kind.

Maybe he was none of those things.

Sam would never know.

 

Dean Smith wakes up at 6:00 am. He showers and brushes his teeth. He dresses impeccably, his suit and tie without a wrinkle, and not a hair out of place.

He knocks on the hall door on his way to the kitchen.

“Adam! It’s time to wake up!” He calls to her.

He comes to the kitchen as he mixes up his smoothie. She grabs a bowl and her favorite cereal.

“Why are so peppy in the morning?” She wrinkles her nose. “It’s kind of disgusting.”

“You should always start the day off right.” He informs him.

He drops her off at his private school.

“Good luck on your presentation!” He calls.

He says goodbye with a small and a quick wave.

 

Dean and Sam are disoriented when they appear back in their motel room.

“That was him like he was before?” Sam asks him, quiet.

“Yeah.” Dean answers. “That was him.”

“But not really him, just one of Zachariah’s tricks.” Sam states, a little disappointed.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. “That wasn’t all there was to Adam.” He smiles a little. “He was never that perky in the mornings.”

“So, what was the  _real_  Adam like?” Sam asks, almost desperate. He wants to,  _needs to_ , know what this boy he would have claimed as part of his family was like.

“He was a lot like me.” Dean finds himself answering. “His clothes, his tastes in music, and Hell, even his attitude.” He smiles at Sam. “But underneath it all, he was a lot like you.”

Sam is struck speechless by the look in Dean’s eyes and the weight of his words.

_You both are just so: kind, considerate, willing to do anything for her family, desperate to be good, desperate to be worthy._

Dean misses him and now, Sam does too.

 

Dean dreams of Cas.

He dreams of sleepy mornings curled so tight they could feel the ribs on each other’s body. He dreams of kissing him every day, despite the lack of toothpaste and soap. He dreams of hands touching him, loving him, firm caresses against his scars. He dreams of soft words and harsh fights and living every day without him in black and white.

He wakes up alone and aching, nearly in tears.

He has never done any of this. Will never do any of this. Because Cas is his best friend, an angel. Dean is only a broken man, older than his body says. The things he did in Hell, the pain he’s caused is unforgivable.

He is not worthy.

 

**On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville – a blue two-door Caprice.**  
  
**There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.**  
  
**She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for Judgment Day." That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile.**  
  
**After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins.**  
  
**And here's where it ends.**

 

Bobby watches his boys mourn a boy in a photo with all the pain a father has for his children.

He wonders about that girl, the one that would have been one of his.

He bets the kid would have been mischievous like Dean and smart like Sam. He bets he would have taught him to work on cars and gave him awkward advice. He remembers that Adam wanted to be a doctor and struggles to place that boy with the angry one that showed up at his door.

But he has no time for “what if’s” and he can’t do much from the chair he’s been caged in.

So, he watches.

He watches Dean yearn for that angel of his with all the hopelessness of a schoolboy. Watches him watch the angel like a thirsty man looks at water. Everyone can see the both of them love the other, Hell it’s only what every angel, demon, and hunter can’t stop talking about.

He watches Sam tiptoe around, trying to figure out his place now that he’s released the Devil. Watches him struggle with regret and hunger for redemption. He wonders if Sam will make it through this damned apocalypse.

He watches Castiel struggle to accept his looming humanity, the depression that has dimmed his eyes. He watches him look at Dean and see not just the man, but the soul. He knows Cas spent months putting Dean back together, risked his existence to rescue him from Hell. Cas knows Dean better than anyone.

_It’s such a damn shame_ ,  _all of it_.

 

 

**In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day – sometimes a week, if they were lucky.**

**They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother.**

**They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game.**

**And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word.**

**It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls...**

****

It never gets easier to bury their loved ones.

There’s nothing left of Jo, of Ellen, or hell, even Ash.

There’s only failure and desperation.

 

“It’s time.” Sam tells Dean quietly, solemn.

They walk outside to Bobby’s backyard.

The evening is quiet. The wind is still. Not even the birds dare to sing.

They stand outside and look at the bonfire they’ve built. They are burning the rest of Ellen and Jo’s things, not willing to risk angry ghosts.

“This is for Ellen and Jo Harville, the best damn hunters I’ve ever seen and even better women.” Bobby says gruffly.

“For Ellen and Jo.” The group echoes.

 

**_…but they were never, in fact, homeless._ **

****

They all share a drink afterward. The bitter taste of whiskey burning their throats.

Dean gets a bit tipsier than he has in a while, way drunker than he should have. Castiel is left to escort him up the stairs, afraid he’ll fall and break his neck.

Dean trips and Castiel catches him.

Their faces are inches apart. The blue of Castiel’s eyes are all Dean can see and he is memorized.

_If I lean just a little bit more._  He thinks.

Castiel’s eyes widened, but he doesn’t move away.

They move closer.

Then Dean passes out, still in Castiel’s arms.

 

Sam sees it happens.

He knew, on an intellectual level, that Cas and Dean had some “ _profound bond_ ” that connected them. Knew that Dean walked around with a handprint that screamed possession to anyone that looked at it. Knew that every creature in Heaven and Hell and in-between gossiped about the Winchester and “ _his_ ” angel.

It doesn’t prepare him to see his brother almost kiss Cas.

It doesn’t prepare him to see how Cas’ face falls when they don’t.

_(It doesn't prepare him to realize how much he wishes they would just man up.)_

****

****

**The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important.**

**This is the stuff that's important. The army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray – it's still stuck there.**

**The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents – to this day, heat comes on and they can hear 'em rattle.**

**These are the things that make the car theirs – really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, 'cause it's the blemishes that make her beautiful.**

**The Devil doesn't know or care what kind of car the boys drive.**

 

 

Bobby makes a deal with Crowley.

He walks again, making the desperate edges around his eyes disappear.

_What’s one little soul in the middle of the apocalypse?_

Crowley gloats about their kiss constantly but flirts just a bit too seriously when he and Bobby are alone.

 

Sam is going to say yes.

Adam already did.

Everything is awful.

And now Cas can barely look at him since he caught him on the verge of giving up.

The world is crumbling before him and he retreats into memories of a somewhat happier path.

Hell, maybe the world fell apart and he became a massive dick, but it all turned out well. They all ended up together and got a great deal of happiness after all the pain.

(He doesn't think they're going in the same direction here.)

 

Then the day comes.

A Sam that isn’t Sam looks at him and sends chills down Dean’s spine. It reminds him of that God-awful trip, of a white suit, of a rose unnaturally beautiful.

“Dean Winchester.” It smiles.

 

Dean arrives at Stull Cemetery preparing for death.

But he still throws on a wicked grin and says, “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

A small part of him will forever appreciate the look of annoyance flashed at him.

“Hey.” He says, with a nonchalant air. “We need to talk.”

“Dean.” Lucifer says, sounding so much like Sam it hurt. “Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

Dean ignores him. “I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam.”

Michael is a bit miffed at this interruption. Dean doesn’t really give a shit. “You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here.”

Dean ignores him too. “Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry.”

_He can’t focus on Adam right now because the guilt will overtake him. His words would do nothing anyway. This Adam holds no love for Dean._

Proving once more what a massive asshole he is, Michael replies. “Adam isn't home right now.”

Dean lets out a feral grin. “Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup. But right now, I need five minutes with him.”

This really pisses Michael off. “You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!”

Dean prepares himself for death.

But then Cas is there.

“Hey, ass-butt!”

Dean is proud of him at first, proud that he faced down the Biggest of all Bads with no hint of fear.

But then Lucifer is angry and suddenly Cas is gone.

 

Cas is  _dead_.

_Cas_  is dead.

And Lucifer is slowly beating Dean to death.

“You know,” He throws a hit. “I tried to be nice,” A kick. “for Sammy's sake. But you,” Dean coughs up some blood. “are such a pain,” Another hit. “ _in my ass_.”

Lucifer throws Dean onto the windshield of Baby, it shatters. Bobby shoots Lucifer in the back, unable to watch anymore.

Lucifer turns, Bobby shoots him again. Lucifer makes a twisting hand motion and, just like that, Bobby’s neck snaps.

 

His family is  _gone_.

He is alone and it’s so fucking awful. 

 

And then Dean is saying everything he always wanted to tell his brother.

“Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you.” He’s gonna accept his fate here. It doesn’t even matter anymore.” Lucifer punches him a few more times, but the last thing he’s gonna see is his baby brother’s face. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

 

He does come back.

Somehow Sam hears him and saves the world.

But he doesn’t stay.

****

**_Endings are hard_**.

**_Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible._ **

**_You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something._ **

**_I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass._ **

 

They don’t kill the Devil in the end.

He’s thrown into the pit with no mercy, Michael along with him.

 

Dean drives back to Bobby’s numb and confused. Cas sits beside him, silent.

“What are you gonna do now?” Dean finds himself asking.

Castiel is merciless. “Return to Heaven, I suppose.”

“Heaven?” Dean almost chokes.

“With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there.” Castiel says neutrally.

“So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?” Dean attempts to joke.

Castiel takes it a bit too seriously, in hindsight. “I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am.”

“Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again.” Dean is not doing a very good job at hiding his bitterness.

“I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll ever return. It just... seems like the right thing to do.” Castiel confesses.

“Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next.” Dean vows, beyond pissed.

“You're angry.” Cas notes.

“That's an understatement.” Dean snorts.

Cas attempts to calm him. “He helped. Maybe even more than we realize.”

Dean doesn’t look at him, he can’t. “That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about  _Sam_? What about  _me_ , huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!”

“You got what you asked for, Dean.” Castiel looks him in the eyes, but he doesn’t meet them. “No  _paradise_. No  _hell_. Just more of the same.” He leans in close. “I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have?  _Peace_  or  _freedom_? “

When Dean manages to look over, Cas is gone.

It hurts more than he expects. “Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?”

 

**_This is the last Dean and Bobby will see of each other for a very long time._ **

**_And, for the record, at this point next week, Bobby will be hunting a rugaru outside of Dayton. But not Dean._ **

**_Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die or find a way to bring Sam back._ **

**_But he isn't gonna do either._ **

**_Because he made a promise._ **

 

Dean’s not sure why he goes to Lisa’s. Maybe because there’s nowhere else to go.

“Hey, Lisa.” He holds back the tears.

“Oh, thank god!” She pauses. “Are you all right?” She sees past the shield, Lisa is smart like that.

His voice breaking, “Yeah. Uh, if it's not too late, I... think I'd like to take you up on that beer.”

“It's never too late.” Lisa says, in a gentle voice.

Dean steps inside and into Lisa’s arms. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“ _Shhhh._  It's okay.” He hears. “It's gonna be okay.”

 

**_So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say._ **

**_But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice._ **

**_They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point?_ **

**_No doubt – endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?_ **

 

_Sam_ , Adam, and his hopes for a happy ending are gone.

Castiel has gone silent on him.

 

He stays with Lisa and lives what feels like a fake life.

(He still dreams of another world, one where they all got some sort of happy ending.)

He sleeps in her guest bedroom and mows her lawn. Her neighbors fawn over how cute they are. Her son enjoys spending time with a male role model.

He feels half dead.

Then he leaves it all behind because Sam is back again.

_Cas_  is back again.

 

But then everything keeps going to shit and soon enough it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

 

Castiel thinks about  _that_  night.

That night when Dean was intoxicated and almost fell. He had caught him like he always would strive to.

Castiel did not need to breathe but, for a second, he thought he was experiencing the effects of suffocation.

The green of Dean’s eyes drew him in, like a moth to a flame. He found himself thinking things he never thought possible before.

_What if_  he leaned in just a bit further?

_What if_  he kissed Dean until the air left his lungs?

But Dean losses consciousness and Cas is left feeling ashamed.

 

Dean says nothing about it afterward, and Cas is almost grateful.

He would never want to ruin his place in Dean’s family. Would never want to take advantage of his state.

He knows Sam saw the entire thing. He hasn’t met Castiel’s eyes since. He hopes he never mentions it to Dean.

He has already lost one family, he doesn’t want to lose another.

He never dared to hope that Dean would offer him something like that. He had wished for it because now the thought won’t leave Castiel’s mind.

Castiel is not blind.

He sees the looks Dean gives him. Sees the longing and desperation. Sees the love.

Castiel is not deaf.

He can hear the way Dean says his name. Like a prayer that most save for God, “ _Cas_.” It is filled with a thousand things he’ll never say.

Castiel is not dumb.

He has watched over humanity for centuries, has seen the beginning and end of civilizations. He knows that everyone knows. Knows that even the filthy demons below smirk at them, laughing at the Angel and the Winchester.

Castiel has loved him since he caught a glimpse of his soul in Hell. It was so bright, so glorious. It was brighter than any of the glories of Heaven, he dared to think.

Yes, he loved Dean Winchester from first sight, as the humans say.

It’s what made him go above and beyond in crafting Dean’s body again. What made him ignore the eyebrows raised as he painstakingly replaced every single freckle on Dean’s body.

Castiel thinks about a million moments that he and Dean have shared.

He thinks about nights sitting on Bobby’s roof, being so close he can feel the body heat of Dean’s body. He thinks about the way Dean’s mouth looks around a bottle and how he struggled to identify the heat in his body.

But after  _that_  night.

_Oh_ , he thinks.

He is attracted to Dean’s body, as well.

He thinks about the day after Gabriel was killed. Dean let him lean on his shoulder for hours uninterrupted. They held hands and it felt so natural Cas could cry.

He loved Dean Winchester,  _but_.

He was just an angel, just a lowly little angel that will soon fall. He is worth less than the dirt on Dean Winchester’s shoes with his sins. He nearly destroyed the world a few times over with his obsessions. He harmed so many in his fruitless pursuits.

He will never be enough for Dean, despite the way he longs to pull him close and kiss him.

He is not worthy.

 

“You should stop doing this to yourself.” Castiel tells him quietly.

“I can’t help but wonder, Cas.” Dean sighs.

They sit in a dirty motel room, crumbled fast food bags in the trash.

“You couldn’t have known; your father covered his tracks well because he never intended for you to meet.” Castiel looks at him, meeting his eyes the only way Cas can.

 “Are we sure Crowley is telling the truth?” Dean asks, voice small.

There has to be a way to get Adam out, a way that doesn’t risk Cas. No matter what timeline he’s in, he won’t leave Adam to suffer. What could be powerful enough to help?

_God?_ _A quiet voice suggests._

He almost snorts, that deadbeat was long done with interfering.

“He would have used him against us by now if he wasn’t.” Castiel confirms.

They sit quietly for a few more minutes. Dean thinks about the Sam waiting for him back at the Bunker and the Sam he saw in his dreams.

Both had been broken beyond what any human should be able to stand and stitched back together. Yet one Sam was doomed to live alone and the other had died loved beyond what was imaginable.

It’s funny how Dean is in the same position. The only difference is that Dean knows what he’s missing. He knows how deep and true they could be.

He finishes his beer and tosses it in the trash.

“Thanks for the company Cas.” He summons up some sort of smile.

“Anytime Dean.” Cas says, with a simple nod.

Then Cas is gone and Dean is left alone.

He thinks about the blue of Castiel’s eyes and the way it felt to kiss him.

He lets out a bitter, broken laugh.

Then he goes to sleep alone.

Like always.

 

 

 

**Bonus: Crowley**

 

Crowley never thought he’d grow so fond of an old man in a wheelchair.

Something about the way he’s so grumpy and angry on the surface, but so soft on the inside appeals to Crowley.

They’re all about to die, so he figures there’s no reason for him not to explore his daddy issues.

 

He finds himself amused and intrigued by the man.

He has a near worship level of infatuation with that two-bit actress but holds powerful knowledge inside that fragile skull of his.

He could make a powerful enemy or useful alley.

 

What seals the deal is the  **kiss**.

Crowley hasn’t been kissed like that in 200 years. The old man may not look like much, but he's got moves that would make Deana and Samantha clutch their pearls.

He discovers he wants Bobby Singer, wants to make him his.

_So, he plots._

 

Of course, the Scooby Gang gets involved when he refuses to return his soul.

But he has plans for him, so he does what he must to make them back off.

But they get it back anyway, leaving him furious and mildly impressed.

 

Then Bobby is  _ **dead**_ , killed by god’s forgotten children, the ones who never learned that no means no and how to stop acting with a child’s control level.

The worst part is that it’s  _all his fault_. He’s the one who had been leading Castiel around by his nose, intending to gain unlimited power from all those souls.

But it was all for nothing, for worse than nothing.

Crowley is fucking furious.

If only the fuck-up twins had just left it alone. Had just let him keep Singer’s soul.

Then he would at least be here, in Crowley’s domain, bitching and griping about the idiots Crowley has to deal with as minions.

But Singer is in Heaven, surrounded by halos and his wife, not sparing a single thought about Crowley.

He doesn’t know why the thought hurts so much.

He feels almost as pathetic as Squirrel and Feathers, wanting each other but denying it out of some idiotic sense of honor.

He snorts and takes a sip of his expensive alcohol.

“At least I was never  _that_  bad.” He says aloud.

He ignores the curious looks the minions send him.

 


End file.
